


You've a Figure Made of Glass (That I Can't Seem to Break)

by TennysonKeats



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM mentioned, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough sex mentioned, slight vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TennysonKeats/pseuds/TennysonKeats
Summary: Jongin and Yixing find hope in each other.





	You've a Figure Made of Glass (That I Can't Seem to Break)

**Author's Note:**

> An old Gazette fic of mine that I've edited and reworked for Exo.

The clock struck 4am and Yixing violently stumbled out of bed accompanied by a string of curse words gracing those beautiful lips, his innocent features twisted into a hideous sneer. His eyes were bloodshot from numerous amounts of restless nights and for once in his pathetic existence, he wondered how much more of this he could tolerate. This filthy house and its equally foul occupants instilled a permanent weariness. Unnamed faces swirled at lightning speed in his mind and he barely made it to the toilet before sickness overtook him. He reeked of stale alcohol and hypocrisy, the stench unbearable as he reacquainted himself with the porcelain bowl.   
  
There wasn’t much solid content, his throat violently contracting from the dry heave. He couldn’t even remember the last proper meal he had eaten.   
  
“Disgusting.” Jongin observed in the doorway, arms crossed and a bare foot carelessly kicking Yixing’s ankle. His voice reverberated in the washroom. “Are you still alive?”  
  
Yixing remained stiff and unmoving on the floor, floating in limbo between consciousness and passing out from the putrid odour.   
  
“Get up.” Jongin traced random circles with his big toe on Yixing’s calf. “How many did you have tonight?”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“That’s not a number.” Hauling him up by his shoulders, he carried Yixing through the dark corridors to the other side of the house. His bedroom was softly lit; silver candelabras adorning each wall with tall fragrant wax pillars. The scent of lilies filled his nostrils and Yixing saw the face of his mother. Smiling. Forgiving.  
  
Jongin roughly undressed him, tearing his already threadbare shirt in the process and pants barely off his ankles before unceremoniously dropping him into the tub. Warm water lapped over the edge from the onslaught and Yixing quickly regained his bearings before going under.  
  
“How many?” He watched Yixing, youthful demeanor slowly revealing itself through the way he splashed around.  
  
“Five.”  
  
“You’re bleeding.”   
  
Shallow cuts on his shoulder split open from the clumsy movements. The smell of copper hits their noses as thin trickles made their way down his bruised chest.  
  
“Get in the shower instead,” Jongin commanded. The thought of Yixing soaking in blood tainted water made sour fumes rise in his mouth.  
  
He did as he was told, legs shaking as he climbed out and stepped into the stall. Jongin drained the bathtub before joining him.   
  
“Customers liked it rough?  
  
Yixing only nodded his head as Jongin gently worked the terry cloth all over his body. He remembered calloused palms and jagged nails; leather cords binding his wrists to the iron headboard. And then there were slaps. Or punches? Perhaps both. He couldn’t recall.  
  
“Five together?”  
  
“Three separate. Two together.” He winced as Jongin scrubbed over a newly formed bruise on his lower back. “I always get the sick fuckers.”  
  
“Only been here for three weeks, rookie. You’re still fresh. Just how they like it.”  
  
“What, you get romance?”  
  
“No. But I don’t get bastards who get off from beating me either.”  
  
Yixing closed his eyes, water soothingly running down his body and foreign hands surprisingly tender massaging his thighs. He clung to the quick glimpse of his childhood, most memories already forgotten but he’s trying so hard to retain. There were slides and jungle gyms, the empty sandbox where he spent most of his evenings with neighboring children. Another flash showed his front porch where he tripped up the steps and scraped his knees.  
  
“Did you cry?” Jongin thumbed the fresh welts on his hips.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Do you want to?” He splayed his hand on the flat of Yixing’s stomach, feeling the slight tremble unraveling rapidly.  
  
“Yeah.”   
  
He holds Yixing securely, something that neither were accustomed to in their line of work. He never dared get close to the other boys no matter how much he yearned for companionship. Some nights, the craving for decent human interaction was so overwhelming that Jongin had conversations with himself. Simple “hellos’ and “how are yous” escalated to more burning inquiries.  
  
_Jongin. Why are you still here?_  
  
_I don’t know._  
  
_Do you want to stay here?_  
  
_No._  
  
_Leave._  
  
_I can’t._  
  
_Why?_  
  
_Not by myself._  
  
_With who?_  
  
_I’m not sure._  
  
_You’re mental, Jongin._  
  
_I know._

*****  
Steam released from the door as Jongin carried him out of the bathroom. His arms remained fastened around Jongin's shoulders and his face hidden in the crook of his neck, new tears in blue, uneven brush stroke.  
  
Yixing stayed silent as Jongin applied the antibiotic salve and taped bandages on the cut.  
  
“How long have you been here?”  
  
“Longer than I should be.” He shoved the first aid supplies in the nightstand.  
  
“Do you want to stay here?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Leave.”  
  
“I can’t.” Jongin responded and stared at Yixing incredulously. He laughed.  
  
“What’s so funny?”  
  
“Fucking déjà vu.”  
  
“What?” He cautiously pulled back when Jongin cupped his cheek. His head knocked against the headboard as the taller man pressed their lips together, drinking from it like a fountain full of tiny gold flecks reflecting their juvenile dreams.  
  
“Let me fuck you, Yixing.”

*****  
The room permeated with need and urgency. Slow explorations from collarbones to soft flesh of inner thighs amplified to deep thrusts and writhing bodies. Hard penetrations elicited melodious whimpering and moans; hands continuously caressing and searching for something to hold on to, while another stroked towards a quaking release.  
  
“Are you like this with your customers?” He gazed at Yixing, the man underneath him quivering and gripping each side of the pillow. This. This shouldn’t be given so freely.

“No.” Yixing mewled in response, arms reaching to wrap around Jongin’s neck to pull him down.  
 

“I can’t hear you,” and he roughly pounded into that acute bundle of nerves, drawing desperate sobs each time. Their bodies were impossibly close and Jongin couldn’t recall ever holding anyone so tight, so intimate.  
 

“No.” Yixing shook his head back and forth. “No…Never.”  
 

“Never?” His eyes wandered following the flush on Yixing’s cheeks down his neck, all the way to his heaving chest.  
 

“Never, Jongin.”  
 

They kiss brutally, fingers woven and hearts chipping precisely around the edges; plump, rosy pouts demanding more than they had to offer.  
 

One day, they would be able to give and take equally.

  
*****   
 

“We’ll get out of here.” Jongin promised, strength renewed when Yixing sought him out for the first time. Scorching whip marks crisscrossed his back and Jongin itched to run his tongue along the tender flesh to make it disappear. “I’ve been saving. All of it. I can’t leave without you.”  
 

Yixing tossed a thick roll of money on the pillow knowing Jongin would deposit it in the safe under his bed later. He straddled Jongin's lap and draped himself tightly around the him, his back soothed with medicated cream and loving hands.  
 

“You think we can get a place outside of the city?”  
 

“Yeah. If you want.” He kissed Yixing on the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Just you and me, baby.”  
 

_Just you and me._

 


End file.
